Herald

There was a tree at the edge of a swamp, a perfectly normal tree. It wasn't too tall, or too small. It took in just enough sun and all the water it wanted. Some of its roots arched up at the waters edge and if the conditions were just right, the occasional squirrel or chipmunk would scury around and under the dark, damp, roots. 

The tree liked it best when the entire grove was one expanse of green, when the little animals would run around, when the water and life were still, and when the sun quietly shined down. 

Each year as autumn started to come around, the tree would grow weary. It did not want its bright green leaves to turn red. It did not like the crisp air, the wind rippling the water, or the peaceful green blanket becoming a rustling quilt of earthy colors. It especially missed the sunshine, as the nights became longer each day. 

However, the seasons do not stop, not even for a tree, and autumn would arrive each year. And each year, the tree would become red, ashamed it no longer wore green leaves. Each day, though the tree did not like the cold, it longed for the time when the bark, the grass, and the water, would all be brown, when everything would blend back together. 

The tree especially didn't like when the grove became white and everything froze. It was chilly and lonely and sometimes having no leaves was worse than having red ones. However, the snow, the ice, all the white, did mean that spring would be coming soon, there was at least a confidence that everything would bloom again, and the tree could look forward to yellow-green buds, the precursor to its resurgence to vivid green leaves. 

There was a tree at the edge of a swamp, a perfectly red tree that stood out against the brown of the muddy water and the green of the other trees. Each year in mid September, it was visible from the road and people would crane their necks to get a glimpse of stunning ruby leaves. It came to be a signal tree of sorts, a sign to all the other trees that it was time to turn, a sign to eveyone that was seasons could be counted on to change, and most of all it was a herald tree, brilliantly red as it body stood out.